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Ghost Valley: The Last Gunfighter
by William W. Johnstone
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Copyright (c)2001 by William W. Johnstone
*One*
Frank Morgan rode into Glenwood Springs in Colorado Territory late in the afternoon, following the trail of Victor Vanbergen and Ned Pine, the outlaw leaders who had held his son, Conrad, for ransom. Conrad was safe now, after Frank's deadly encounter with two outlaw gangs. He'd left a trail of blood and graves in his wake to free his boy, but the business wasn't finished until Vanbergen and Pine paid for their mistake.
Frank had given up his old ways, the gunfighting trade, years earlier, but when his boy was taken prisoner by Pine and Vanbergen, he had opened an old trunk he kept under his bed and cleaned both of his pistols. There were some things even a peace-loving man couldn't tolerate.
He stopped his horse at a weed-choked cemetery near the edge of town when he saw an old man standing near the wrought-iron fence around the grave markers. Frank's brown dog growled. The old fellow turned around and gave him a look.
'Howdy,' Frank said. He silenced Dog with a sharp whistle.
The man nodded. 'You're a stranger to these parts,' he said. 'I reckon you came to see the famous Doc Holliday.'
'That's not why I'm here,' Frank replied. 'I've heard about Holliday and the OK Corral shootings down in Tombstone. I didn't know he was here in Glenwood Springs.'
'He came here to die. He's got consumption.'
'I didn't know,' Frank told him.
'We've got us a sanitarium in town. Lots of folks used to come here to take them hot mineral baths. Makes 'em live longer, or so I hear. This place is nearly a ghost town now.
'Holliday's almost dead, but he gets visitors from time to time who want to see what he looks like. There was this story in the _Glenwood Springs Herald_ about how Doc Holliday used to be a dentist. He had this unusual sign above his office. I seen a tintype of it.'
'What did the sign say that was so interesting?' Frank wanted to know.
The old man frowned. 'It went somethin' like this, that if satisfaction with my dental work ain't given, your money will be given back.'
Frank chuckled, then got back to the business at hand. 'I'm looking for a couple of men who passed this way. They had some other men with them. One's name is Ned Pine, and the other is Victor Vanbergen.'
'Hell, stranger, damn near everybody in these parts knows Ned Pine. He's a killer, wanted by the law. Are you some kind of lawman?'
'No.'
'You're sure packin' a lot of iron on that horse. A rifle an' a shotgun.'
Frank ignored the remark. He also carried a pistol under his coat that the man apparently hadn't noticed. 'Have you seen Pine around this town lately?'
'No, sir, I sure ain't.'
Frank was distracted when he saw a figure in the shadows of a tree at the back of the cemetery. 'Who is that?' he asked as he opened his coat for a better reach toward his gun if the need arose.
'Who are you talkin' about, mister?' the old man asked when he stared across the fence.
'That man ... he looks like an Indian.' Frank pointed to the back of the cemetery. Dog growled again, fur rigid on his back.
'There ain't nobody there.'
Frank saw the figure move away from the back fence of the graveyard. 'There he goes now, the fella with long hair dressed in a buckskin shirt. He's walking into that stand of pines behind the fence.'
'You must be plumb blind, stranger. There ain't nobody near them trees.'
'He's gone now,' Frank muttered. 'I don't suppose it matters who he was.'
The old man turned away. 'There's some who claim they can see the Old Ones. The Ones Who Came Before, they call 'em. The Anasazi Injuns used to live here ... they got mud houses up in the mountains, only they all died off a long time ago. Some folks claim they can see 'em near this buryin' place every now an' then, only they ain't real, like ghosts or somethin'. Most folks in town don't pay no attention to it.'
'But I did see someone ... he was dressed like an Indian,' Frank said. 'My dog saw him too.'
'Look, mister, there ain't nothin' wrong with my eyes an' I damn sure didn't see nobody where you was pointin'. Maybe you oughta get yourself a pair of spectacles.'
